Reflections of a Mad Informant
by Brandonstuart
Summary: Semi-insane!Izaya has many strange moments in his life, many of them completely questionable. These are one-shots of different parts of his life, involving his semi-insanity in some way or another.
1. Promise to a Machine

A/N: So, yeah. . Decided to upload this one-shot thing. And now I'll upload something else in a few minutes. Bad internet right now really screws me over.

* * *

It was quiet, unearthly quiet, especially because this was the city and there was supposed to be people bustling this way and that, even at the ungodly hour of two in the morning.

The gleaming city lights in this deathly still place seemed to only accentuate the loneliness. Amongst this haunt of the city was a complete wreckage of the street and the buildings on this street. The only thing that stood out from this wreckage was a single crushed vending machine.

It was half-in a seedy old pub, the wall around the broken machine crumbling and barely holding together. It had been thrown with such force that the cement underneath had cracked on impact, much of it turning to dust and blowing away in the wind.

The metal itself was twisted, glass completely shattered inwards, gleaming sparkles in the neon lights. Cans of different pops were either still inside the machine, severely jumbled around and all crushed so that the liquid inside had seeped out, or scattered on the concrete, spilling their juices onto the walkpath.

It was an excrutiatingly melancholy sight. As if the entire world had become deserted after some mutated monster had gone on a rampage through this small street.

Only one person dared to tread in the wake of the monster, steps feather-light, towards the demolished machine.

A somber mood was over this man with raven hair and ruby-red eyes as he silently stood in front of the mechanical ruin, hand going out to barely brush against the twisted metal, sadness shining in his eyes.

"You poor, poor thing," Orihara Izaya softly said, lightly running his fingers over the machine's broken frame.

"There you were, just doing what you were created to do... and then that monster picked you up... You didn't even do anything to him... Just picked you up and tossed you..."

A small frown wound it's way onto the man's face as he stared intently, as though straining to hear something. He lightly touched the broken bits of glass, acute pain informing him they were sharp enough to cut him, as they had done so.

He pulled his hand back to stare at the cut, watching bright red liquid swell out. Frown more prominent now, he stretched his hand out over the broken machine, tilting it to let the pooling blood drip into its desolated organs.

"Another victim of that awful beast, who destroys everything without reason. You can't get revenge on him for your wrongful death, but I can and will."

Hand pulling back to rest at his side, eyes searching the ground, a small smile forms on his face. Bending down, he picked up a can from inside the machine, the glass cutting into his arm a little.

"Even in your dying moments you made sure to save one of my favorites..." speaking softer than before, the fur-coated man looked at the other cans, noting the one in his hand was the only one untouched by the violence that had wrecked everything.

"I hear your plea, and I _will _kill that monster. Harming so many of you every day... I will stop him from ever harming another again." Bowing respectfully towards the wreckage, he slowly turned around and started away.

He clutched the can in his hands, keeping his head down as he walked back along the ghost street. In the reflected light of the city lights, his blood-red eyes gleamed with an almost hellish fire, promising vengeance for the destruction a monster left in its wake.

_"That thing will never hurt anyone again."_

_

* * *

_

A/N: Uh, I totally meant to make that humorous. Guess I failed. XD Oh well, Izaya wanted to make it like this, so I had to do what he wanted me to.


	2. Betrayal at Home

A/N: Well, guess it couldn't be helped. My government class was highly boring today and I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. I might just make this a series of one-shots, maybe even have a small bit of plot put together in the end. Otherwise they're just little one-shots in the life of our favorite insane informant.

* * *

"This is completely unacceptable!"

A huff resounded throughout the rather spacious, high-class apartment, then a bit of shuffling. Squeak of a drawer opening.

"Absolutely cannot be happening!"

The man who owned the ritzy apartment stomped his bare foot on the smooth carpet, making an exasperated noise. He turned away from the drawer, making his way towards the large and open pantry.

"I can't believe how annoying you can get. If I had to, I'd say you caused this on purpose."

Hands went to his hips as he glared irritably at the washing machine in front of him. Exasperated sigh, hang opening the lid of the machine, he peered inside.

"You always break on days that I really need you to work," he snapped, closing the lid quickly before moving over to the dryer and opening that machine up.

Peering inside, he groaned, "And you didn't even turn on when I tried to use you last night."

Swinging the lid shut, he shuffled out of the room and went to the kitchen, staring suspiciously at the refrigerator.

"Have you turned on me too? Will I find all my food rotten?"

Bracing himself for the betrayal of yet another machine, he closed his eyes and slowly opened the fridge. When nothing foul-smelling wafted to his nose, he opened his eyes and beamed.

"I knew you were my friend! Unlike that washer and dryer, those two vile things. Do you think I should replace them?"

Soft rumbling from ice tumbling in the ice holder in the freezer part of the fridge, and he nodded happily.

"I knew you'd agree. I'll get new ones first thing tomorrow."

Having solved that dillema, he pulled out some orange juice and poured it into a glass and set it down on the counter before replacing the juice in the fridge and closed it.

He picked up the glass and drank the orange juice inside, humming in contentment as he moved over to one of his cabinets, opening it and taking out the loaf of bread in it. Grinning to himself, he opened the loaf and took out two pieces, quickly putting them into his toaster before putting the loaf back and closing the cabinet.

"Now don't burn that," he told the toaster, sipping at his juice and frowning. "I just had you fixed so you wouldn't do that again, you naughty thing."

Eyeing the toaster warily until the toast finally popped out, goldeny-crispy just like it was supposed to be, he then took the toast out and set it on a paper towel. He patted the toaster affectionately, smiling as he did so.

"I knew you would behave now. What a good boy you are."

Having praised the toaster enough, he retreated to the kitchen table to sit down and eat his toast breakfast.

"I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't fill my poor tummy every day. I'd probably go mad from hunger. And couldn't you just die from laughing at that? Orihara Izaya going crazy from _hunger_?"

He giggled softly to himself, staring around into the air as he gulped down the last of his juice and toast.

"Exactly. That's gut-busting ironic right there."

Getting up from the table, he quickly washed his dishes and put them back up before returning to his bedroom.

"However this isn't funny. How could you betray me like this? Haven't I always been kind to you, constantly kept you close, took care of you, never ignored you? How could you do this to me! I thought you loved me as much as I love you."

Glaring at the bed, he slowly moved towards it.

"I guess you don't love me as much as I believed you did. Especially after this whoring business. How could you just give yourself away like that? I bet she doesn't even take care of you a fraction of the way I do."

Staring down at the offender, his frown deepened and he reached a hand down.

"I can't accept this. I just can't. After this whoring of yours I just can't love you anymore. I'm sorry, but it's true. We'll have to say goodbye now."

Picking up the offender, he made his way back into the kitchen.

"I know! You wish you'd never done it. These are your own consequences though, so you'll just have to accept them. Goodbye, my dear love. I'm sorry it had to be this way."

And he then threw away the offending black sock, along with his white sock whoring partner before turning away and going to his room to find a sock that _hadn't _cheated on him.

* * *

A/N: So, did anyone expect the sock to be the cause of his anger? =3 I totally see it in Izaya's crazy character to randomly talk to his appliances, because who else does he have to troll in his own home when Namie's not there? Anyway, I'll try to think of something for another one-shot.


End file.
